


Just The Two Of Us

by Hekatee, Pierian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Love, M/M, One Shot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, writing on wrist identifies your soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:36:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekatee/pseuds/Hekatee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pierian/pseuds/Pierian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finally meets his soulmate. Except his soulmate has been given a heavy dose of morphine and has no idea that his drugged-up rambling includes the words that change Harry's life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just The Two Of Us

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmate AU time! I'm just a trash frog in the swamp of life writing fic instead of studying
> 
> Note: Myself and Maddie (Pierian) are looking to write more fics like this, so if you have any suggestions for a prompt let us know xx

**Soulmate AU**

 

Harry wakes to the sound of hysterical giggling. It’s an airy sound, blissfully unaware of the world and its horrors. Harry wonders if the source of the giggling is high, but a quick glance around at his surroundings tells him he’s in the hospital wing. The last place someone would get high if they valued their life.  

The sunlight directly hits Harry’s eyes from a nearby window. He blinks twice, squinting and feeling around for his glasses. He attempts to sit up, but his whole body protests with aches and pains. So he lies limber, still, and attempts to figure out who’s giggling behind the curtain next to him. He remembers the Quidditch match, and the sensation of falling, but not much more. There is a lull in the giggling before it starts back up again, even more maniacal than before. Harry starts to smile; the sound is infectious.  

Despite himself, he looks at the faint markings on the inside of his left wrist. _Look how shiny they are,_ the cursive script reads. Harry lets out a long sigh. Sure, he was The Boy Who Lived, and now the saviour of the wizarding world completing his eighth year at Hogwarts, and yet he had the oddest soulmate inscription in the world. In fact, the words were embarrassing. His friends were all born with the beautiful phrases imprinted on their arms. Their words were the kind that sent hearts racing. Once their soulmate spoke the words aloud to them and they faded from their skin forever, they knew they found The One. Harry frowned down at the words on his forearm. 

In what situation would someone ever say ‘ _look how shiny they are’_?  It was the kind of phrase Luna would say, and she definitely wasn't his soulmate. Hell, even Luna’s words were romantic: _my happiness depends on yours._

“Finally awake, dear.” A bustling figure comes into Harry’s line of sight, “Now drink up.” Madame Pomfrey appears with a jug of water and a glass. She puts two pillows behind his head and helps him sit up. He drinks obediently, not realising how parched his throat was until he’s downed the whole glass of water in seconds. How long has he been out for? 

“You’ve been knocked out for a few hours.” Madame Pomfrey says. Has she been practising Legilimency? Then again, he had spent enough time in the hospital during schooling years that she probably knew exactly what he would ask. She continues to flitter around the bed as Harry internally assesses his injuries. At the moment, it appears that more areas of his body are sore than not. 

Harry feels an object being pressed against his palm by Madame Pomfrey. His glasses! He pushes them up his nose, blinking a few times as everything clears around him. 

“Did I get hit by a bludger again?” Harry asks as the nurse smooths out the creases in his bedsheets.

“Not this time.” She says with a rueful smile, “You fell off your broom and-”

“Sooooooo prettyyyyy.”

Harry and Madame Pomfrey snap their heads towards the curtain where the dazed voice had come from. The voice sounded familiar. It was definitely an older boy, possibly another Quidditch player. Harry squints at the curtain, trying to make out the figure. His eyebrow quirks up as the boy starts to laugh again.

“I’ve never seen anything sooooo pretty.” The boy slurs in between fits of giggling. 

Madame Pomfrey huffs and walks around Harry’s bed. She pulls back the curtain harshly to reveal a drugged up Draco Malfoy, giggling like a little kid. He’s lying flat on the bed, twisting and twirling his hands above his face. He was covered in dirt and dried blood: the remnants of a Quidditch accident.  The faint line of cursive writing is visible on Malfoy’s wrist, but not close enough for Harry to read. He feels…relief? concern?…that Malfoy’s words are still there. He had assumed that Parkinson or the Green-grass girl would have whispered the magic words years ago, back when their schoolyard rivalry represented something much bigger. 

“I knew Muggle medicine was a bad idea.” Madame Pomfrey says through gritted teeth as she makes her way to Malfoy’s side. He greets her with an even bigger grin and tries to stroke her nurse’s cap. She slaps his hand away with more force than is probably allowed (or necessary) for a staff member. Harry is incredibly entertained by the whole scenario. He’s still infected by Malfoy’s euphoria.  

“What drugs is he on?” He asks Madame Pomfrey, feigning innocence. Malfoy had switched sides after the war and cut off all ties to the Death Eaters, but Harry couldn't let a seven-year long rivalry fade away that easily. He would have his artillery ready to slaughter Malfoy with embarrassing stories of his drug-induced haze. 

But at the same time, this is the happiest he’s seen Malfoy looking. Harry couldn't help but reciprocate the grin Malfoy gives him.

“Morphine.” Madame Pomfrey says tightly. “I gave it to him after a heavy dose of Skele-Gro to help with the pain. It’s all part of Hogwart’s plan to integrate more Muggle tools into the wizarding world. But really, this stuff should stay with Muggles. Look at the boy!”

On queue, Malfoy starts humming an unrecognisable tune. Harry thinks it probably isn't even a real song. But Malfoy is content with humming and waving jazz hands in the air, so he lets him be. 

“Muggle stuff isn't all bad.” Harry says before pouring himself another glass of water. “How about Oreos?”

“If they think that Oreos and morphine will end pureblood elitism, they're certainly wrong.” Madame Pomfrey mutters to herself as she examines Malfoy’s regrowing bones before leaving the boys alone, perhaps too exhausted by the silliness of the situation. Harry reflects upon his experience in second year and winces at the memory. Bloody Lockhart. 

A loud gasp brings Harry back to the present. He blinks twice at the loopy Draco Malfoy lying opposite him.  

“Haaaarrrrrrry, I want to ask something.” Malfoy says, his eyes narrowed. He looks a bit like an angry kitten. Harry notices this is the first time Malfoy has called him 'Harry', and not addressed him by spitting out 'Potter'. 

 “Uh, what’s up Malfoy?” Harry, on the other hand, was sober, and would refer to Malfoy in the way he feels most comfortable with. Saying ‘Draco’ aloud was a strange sensation, like there was a heavy dollop of honey on his tongue. It had always been like that. 

Malfoy folds his arms across his chest and pouts like a bratty child.

“You right?” Harry asks, dismayed.  

“Draco.” The other boy says firmly, adding in a nod. 

“Pardon?” 

“My name is _not_ Malfoy, it’s Draco. And you’re Harry. Harry James Potter.”

Harry stares at Mal-Draco for a while. Was thisreconciliation? The logical part of Harry’s brain doubts this is any more than a cooked conversation. But he can’t deny the way his heart clenches like a fist. 

“Um, okay, what did you want to ask, Draco?” Harry says, feeling a sudden protective warmth for Draco in his vulnerable state. He decides he won’t entertain his friends with any stories from today.

“You’re eyes are so green, Harry. They are like…like…umm…they are like a leaf!” Draco declares with an intoxicated grin. Harry feels his cheeks go very hot. 

“Thanks Draco, you're hair is very white.” Harry replies, humouring the other boy. Draco reaches up and tentatively touches his own hair. As if content that, yes, he does still have hair, his hands return to twirling in front of his face. 

“Look Harry,” Draco says softly.  “Look at my hands! Look how shiny they are.” 

And that was it. The moment that Harry feels his world fall in on itself. He stares at Draco, silently willing him to take the words back, ignoring the blood rushing in his ears and the acceleration of his heart. He then quickly looks at his wrist and, sure enough, the words fade like they are melting into his skin. 

_Fuck me,_ Harry thinks, _my soulmate is Draco bloody Malfoy_. 

He turns back to Draco, unsure of whether he wants to yell or cry. But, as if to add salt to the wound, Draco has fallen asleep, cuddling himself and breathing slow. 

Harry leans his head back against his pillow, trying to calm his heart. It wasn't a major shock that his soulmate was a boy: Harry was well aware of his bisexuality. Blaise Zabini had come back from the war toned and tanned. And Harry had noticed. Eventually he asked Hermione for help, as all dim-witted boys do. Yes, he had found Ginny and Cho attractive, but he found Blaise attractive too. Hermione had explained to him that it was okay and totally normal, and because she was the smartest person he knew, he had to believe her. 

When he had told Ron, his best mate had smiled and, with a mouth full of bread, said, “You’re always staring at Zabini, so figures.” 

But Malfoy? Harry sneaks a look at the sleeping figure on the bed beside him. Now, without the frown and the angst that normally accompanied Draco, he didn’t look as pointy as usual. Memories flash through Harry’s mind: of Draco’s long legs attempting to trip Harry over in Potions, of Draco half-grin when he strutted down the Hogwart’s halls, of Draco’s armed wrapped around his waist as they barely survived the Fiendfyre in the Requirement Room not so long ago.  

His bare left wrist now confirmed all of the suspicions he had dare not think about. Now, as Draco slept, Harry could fully appreciate his porcelain skin and pouty lips. His ‘pointy’ features as it turns out, Harry thinks, are just prominent. Harry’s fingers curl as he imagines skimming his fingers along Draco’s jaw. And then his lips. He groans and buries his face in the mountain of pillows. 

Of course it's Draco Malfoy. It always was.

 

**

 

Harry lies awake all night, tossing and turning as he tries, unsuccessfully, to sleep. His mind is a cruel bastard: it only thinks of Draco. Images of kissing him play like a slideshow behind his eyes until he squeezes his them shut and forces himself to sleep. Eventually, just as dawn is beginning to break, Harry falls into a light slumber. He wakes up barely an hour later.   

“Fuck, I barely slept.” Harry groans and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He feels for his glasses and shoves them up his nose. 

Then his gut twists as he remembers what happened. Draco Malfoy said his phrase. Draco Malfoy was his soulmate. 

“Morning, Draco.” Harry gingerly stretches his arm, pleasantly surprised to find it doesn’t hurt.

“Draco? Are we on first name basis now, _Potter?_ ” Draco sneers. Harry tilts his head to he side slightly, looking at Draco. Really looking at him. Seeing everything and wondering why he didn’t see it before.

“You told me to call you Draco. Last night. When you were high as a kite.”   

Draco’s face, if possible, became more pale. 

“And you called me Harry.” Harry adds, smiling nonchalantly. Hoping his soul could be deceived the same way he was trying to deceive Draco. 

“I—why would I—” Draco frowns to himself. “Did I say anything else?”

“You…you told me how shiny your hands were.” Harry says carefully, as if talking to a child. Draco merely shrugs.  

“Right. Okay. Do you want me to call you Harry?” Draco looks at him with widened eyes. Harry clenches his fists under the bed sheets. 

“I don’t—Yeah, yeah sure.” Harry’s stomach was still churning, he summoned all the Gryffindor courage he had and looked right in Draco’s grey eyes. He was surprised to see a smile on Draco’s face. Was that because Harry said they were on a first name basis? 

He remembers the innocence of Draco’s sleeping figure. He remembers how wonderful he felt when Draco noticed his green eyes. Unfortunately, he would have to reciprocate the same vulnerability Draco had shown him. He would have to tell him.

“The words you said, the…the ‘look how shiny they are’ they, well, they—“

“Bloody hell spit it out, Pott—erm, Harry.” 

“They were my words.” Harry barely whispers. There’s silence.  

“I wish it wasn’t true, Draco.” Harry says, half-knowing that he’s lying. After all, him and Draco had grown up together. They both loved magic. They had learnt to value the same things. They both harboured inexplicable pains. 

_Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies._ Those were Ron’s words. Hermione had said them to him when she was reciting her favourite Aristotle quotes.  

“No.” Draco finally says. His jaw and shoulders visibly tense. 

“Draco-”

“No!” He repeats, raising his voice. “You’ve got it wrong. It’s not me. I’m not your fucking soulmate.”

“I’m sorry, okay! You know we don’t decide who our soulmates are.” Harry apologises desperately, worrying at his thumbnail. He certainly didn’t feel like he just met his soulmate. He thought that love meant you wanted to make the other person feel that they were the most special person in the room, because they sure were to you. You never wanted to miss a single thought that came out of their beautiful mind. But now, he just wanted to be anywhere Draco wasn’t. He couldn’t face this. 

“But I’m…I’m me.” Draco says flatly. Harry suddenly looks up. The blonde boy has his knees curled up to his chest. He looks so forlorn that Harry just aches to hold him until the pain fades away. 

“Look, just-” Harry stops his sentence short. There aren’t words. 

Draco jumps out of bed and paces up and down the hospital wing. It appears that he has a lot of words for the situations. 

“No fucking way. We’re not soulmates. This is some kind of a joke! It must be! This is a sick joke. Or I’m still feeling the morphine. Where’s Pomfrey? Where’re my teammates? Jesus, I need to get out of this school. This can’t be happening. It’s a joke. Surely a joke.”

Harry doesn’t say anything. He knows the importance of a rant. A strange part of him finds Draco’s stressing adorable. 

“And if it’s not a joke…it’s just wrong. Wrong! We hate each other! We spent the past seven years tormenting each other. You piss me off every time I see you. You made my life _hell._ You are the _bane_ of my very existence! You-”

“I get it Malfoy.” Harry says tiredly. “You hate my guts.”

“Damn right I do!” Draco starts to pace faster. “And you’re a guy. And even worse, you’re a Gryffindor!”

Harry feels anger rising up in his chest. So fucking what if they were different? They didn’t have to defined by the past. Harry he stands up in front of Draco, cutting off his pacing and forcing him to listen. 

“What do you want me to do?” Harry blurts out. He holds up his left arm to reveal the bare skin. “This isn’t a joke. The words I gone. I know you thought I hated you. But obviously I don’t. I never did, you idiot. You were just too stubborn and proud and caught up in your own shit to ever consider that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t your mortal enemy.”

Harry feels slightly breathless after his speech. Draco too is breathing heavily from his pacing. The boys look at each other for a long time. Harry realises they had been in this position many times before. 

“What…what will everyone say?” Draco breaks the silence. His voice is so small and scared Harry has to fight the burning desire to hold him again. 

Instead, Harry lets out a shaky laugh.  “They don’t need to know. We can run away together, just the two of us.” 

Harry thought his joke was okay. Apparently Draco did not. His face goes white. He sits back down on the bed and yanks his sleeve up. 

_We can run away together, just the two of us._ Harry has just enough time to read the words before they fade. Draco makes a choked cry. 

Then Draco looks up at him, and Harry feels the fireworks. But the fireworks aren't comforting; they're big and terrifying. They remind him that this, whatever they have, won’t be easy. But at least it’s here. At least it’s real.

Draco looks so scared and Harry understands why. He has to trust the man in front of him, he has to be vulnerable and of course that is scary as fuck. But, to Harry, suddenly things don't seem to scary. 

He takes two steps towards Draco and hesitates only a split second before he pulls Draco into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest. He feels Draco breath out against him and the other boy wrap shaky arms around his waist. The tension leaves Harry’s shoulders. They stay there until Harry feels a tug on his shirt, and Draco pulls him onto his hospital bed. 

He follows Draco and lies down, pressing his forehead to Draco’s and smiling softly as he feels every part of his body relax. He feels safe. Draco loosens his grip slightly and slowly pulls back from Harry, looking right at him. 

“How will this ever work?” Draco says so softly Harry almost doesn’t hear it. 

“I don’t care.” He thinks for a moment before adding, “You’re mine.”

Draco’s smile is so brilliant that Harry finds himself being drawn closer, his eyes on Draco’s lips. 

“I’m yours.” Draco says slowly and closes the small space between them. The feeling of his lips on Harry’s is overwhelming. Harry feels pure joy in ever part of his body as Draco pushes slightly harder until Harry responds, by slipping his hand into Draco’s hair, smiling as he off-handedly thinks about how he always wondered how soft his snow coloured hair would be. 

 

**

 

“Are you sure about this?” Draco asks. They stand in the empty corridor right outside the Great Hall. Harry smiles and threads his fingers through Draco’s in response. 

Two weeks passed since they had found out they were one another’s soulmates and they still hadn't told anyone. They had decided they needed to just be with each other before brining anyone else into their relationship. They had snuck into abandoned classrooms and back corners of the library, even broom closets every chance they got. Just holding one another and talking for as long as they could until they reluctantly had to leave. 

Harry had decided he had had enough. He wanted Draco to lie by the fire with him in the Gryffindor common room. He wanted to hold Draco’s hand on walks to Hogsmede. He wanted fall asleep with Draco in his arms. So he had devised a plan. A good plan he had thought. Draco had called it ‘Gryffindor’. Harry, eventually, convinced him to go along with it. 

So now they stood outside the Great Hall hands intertwined and hearts beating furiously.  

“I want everyone to know I'm yours.” Harry says sincerely and Draco’s final resolve breaks as he pulls Harry forward. 

“Of course I have to fall for a bloody Gryffindor.” He huffs. Harry only smiles as he pushes open the doors to the Great Hall. 

  
At first there is no reaction. People are talking amongst themselves and barley notice the two boys walk in. However, as Harry pulls Draco right into the centre of the Hall people take notice. Satisfied that enough people have seen, Harry plants a kiss on Draco’s cheek and smiles. 

“That wasn’t so bad.” Harry says as he turns to Draco. He barely has time to register that Draco is leaning forward again before lips are moving against Harry’s. Harry immediately pushes back, not wanting to be out done. However, as soon as they came they were gone.

“Looks like that Gryffindor bravery is rubbing off on me.” Draco says with a smirk before pulling Harry over to the Slytherin table. The noise of the Hall slowly rises once again and it is not for another full minute after the noise rises around Harry that he is finally able to speak. 

“You just kissed me in front of the whole school.” 

“Observant.” Draco retorts. Harry elbows him in the stomach, but can’t stay mad as Draco piles his plate with food and fills his cup for him. Harry smiles and reaches for Draco’s hand under the table. Around him chatter and conversations are going on, and Pansy even includes him into the discussion about potions. 

Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione. Their eyes bulge out of their shocked faces. He offered a small smile and squeezed Draco’s hand to reassure himself. Draco squeezed back and, as if understanding, moved slightly closer to him.  

It would be okay. He was sure, he had Draco after all. 

 


End file.
